


Whatever You Need

by FoxesOwlsandBumblebees



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Aromantic Asexual Nardole, Autistic Doctor (Doctor Who), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Needs a Hug, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Uses They/Them Pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:13:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29176212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxesOwlsandBumblebees/pseuds/FoxesOwlsandBumblebees
Summary: When the Doctor is at their very worst, Nardole tries his best to help them. If only he knew what it was that was bothering them... Set post-Husbands of River Song
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor & Nardole
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	Whatever You Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AceRenegade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceRenegade/gifts).



> Contains discussion of grief and selective mutism. If either of those are triggers, please skip this one

Nardole and the Doctor had been hanging around in deep space since the night on Darillium had passed. Just floating in nowhere in particular. Nardole had been meaning to ask about whether they were going to go anywhere, but he was honestly just enjoying the feeling. It was nice just looking out at the galaxies they'd passed and despite staying in the same place, the visions never got old. It was a gorgeous view, so different from the world that he'd been used to, and he'd been enjoying it since the Doctor had planted them there almost two weeks ago and muttered something about the TARDIS console needing some work.

The Doctor had not said a word since.

Nardole wasn’t bitter. He was just concerned. Professor Song had taken him aside the second the Doctor had affixed his head onto a new body and warned him to take care of them. That she wouldn't be around for very much longer. That the Doctor needed someone to take care of them.

Nardole had been honoured. He was excited to confront the silly individual after the ridiculousness that had ensued at their first encounter. He was enthused to see what sort of exciting hijinks they'd get themselves into.

But the creature who had walked onto the TARDIS after bidding farewell to River had been a completely different one to who he was expecting.

The Professor had told him to make sure that he stayed with the Doctor. That no matter what they did, whether they threw a tantrum or not, Nardole was to stay where he was. So he was immediately confused when, instead of being met with the expected outrage, when the Doctor finally said goodbye to River, they greeted him with a nod and then pulled a lever on the console.

That had been three days ago.

The Doctor had pretty much been staring at the console and doing little else since.

Nardole didn't think that the Doctor was even aware he was there. He was desperate for a snack, but Professor Song's words kept echoing in his mind.

_ Don't leave them alone. _

So he quashed down any thoughts of hunger and stayed in the seat he'd first sat in.

-

It was two days later when Nardole finally decided to bite the bullet and talk to the Doctor.

It didn't exactly go well.

“Sir?” The Doctor turned to look back at him, head tilted slightly. “Are you okay?”

A brief nod. And then more silence.

Nardole built up the courage to speak again “You haven’t said anything for three days.”

_ Or done anything _ , he didn't say. He didn't want to push it.

He didn’t expect them to respond. 

“Oh.” Their voice sounded scratchy from disuse “Sorry.”

Desperate to start the conversation going now the Doctor had finally spoken, Nardole grasped at the topic “Does this happen often?”

There was a mere nod in return. Nothing more.

Total silence passed. Well, not total silence, since the TARDIS was still humming in the background, but as close to silence as you got in the console room.

The Doctor didn't want to talk. That much was clear. Still, Nardole gave another push “Do you want to go anywhere?”

The Doctor just rested their hands on the console. They didn’t set the controls, they just looked down at them.

No, wait, they were staring off into space. Well, not space exactly, but-

What sounded like a whimper came from the Doctor, and Nardole turned to look at them. Their arms were draped around their body and their head had fallen to their chest. 

Nardole wrapped his arms around them before he even knew what he was doing, letting them fall to the ground and cry out their grief.

He’d never seen them cry before.

And now he was witnessing it, he hated it.

Fat tears spurted down the thin cheeks, making them almost choke on their sobs. Nardole expected them to push him off, but instead, they sunk their head into his shoulder and cried. 

He held them. He held them for a long time. Hours it felt like. Just letting them embrace their feelings.

When they finally pulled away, Nardole wouldn't let them go too far away. He steered them back towards the console and draped his arm around them "Do you want to talk about it?"

A tiny head shake. He barely saw it. He was too busy focusing on how the tears were coagulating on their long lashes.

They hadn't finished crying yet. But they were still pushing him away.

Nardole sighed. He was sick of their silly moods, refusing to talk to him but very clearly wanting to cling to him, to say  _ something _ .

So Nardole decided to take a risk. He decided to give them a little push. They weren't going to say anything if he didn't say anything himself.

So he did. “Was it after that girl you can’t remember?”

It got a reaction. Just not quite the one that Nardole had been wanting. Instead of words, he was met with complete stillness. Now quite desperate for a response, Nardole pushed harder “Is it because of your wife’s death, sir?”

The prodding didn’t work. It did the complete opposite of working. With a sudden dramatic twirl, the Doctor turned on their heel.

And left the console room.

Nardole sighed, running his hand over his face “That could’ve gone better.”

-

It was a few hours later when he felt the slight brushing of fingers against him and he turned to look at the Doctor. They were looking somewhat past him and quietly muttered “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

They winced like the very words were hurting them. They made an odd little gesture with their hands and it clicked “Oh! You mean about doing that because your wife died?”

Another nod. And then another wince. And then a strange little action where they curved their hand into a fist and made a circle over their chest.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

The Doctor sighed soundlessly, their head falling into their hands 

“Are you upset with me?”

The Doctor smacked his arm. Nardole rolled his eyes and swivelled his eyes over to them in anticipation of their bullshit.

Oh.

No.

Their expression was that of exasperation. Impressive eyebrows squinting and mouth open slightly. No. Okay.

“So you’re  _ not  _ upset with me.”

A head shake.

“What is it then?”

They began to shake their head as Nardole started talking, covering their ears and squeezing their eyes shut. Nardole didn’t understand, but he’d figured out enough that touching them wouldn’t go across particularly well.

“Okay.” When they made a small sound, he realised he should probably not talk either.

It was the longest few minutes of his life. The Doctor seemed to calm down a little, turning to the console and typing slowly, smiling gently at the soft yellow light. He couldn't really tell, but he was pretty sure their eyes were tightly closed.

He didn't want to irritate them, but he couldn't ignore his senses anymore “Can you uh, show me to the kitchen? I’m bloody starving.”

The Doctor didn’t react, still just tapping buttons on the console. Nardole wanted to try and prod them to see whether he could get a reaction out of them, but he knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. So he just ignored his growing hunger.

He was about a second away from exploring the ship by himself when the Doctor patted his arm. He looked up at them and they pointed at the TARDIS screen, waved and then disappeared through the door.

Oh. Nardole heaved himself heavily over to the screen, ready to do whatever the Doctor wanted of him.

Only...

They weren’t instructions. The Doctor had pulled up a map, presumably of the inside of the TARDIS and giving clear directions on how to get to what he assumed was the kitchen.

Nardole gave a little whoop, a mutter of “Thanks” to no one in particular, and then started off down the corridor.

The map had already made itself at home in his brain and Nardole joyfully followed his feet until he reached a gloriously stocked kitchen, full of any sort of food he could think of.

To say it was a blessing would be an understatement.

He filled his plate and as he sat back down to eat his pile of sandwiches, he thought about the interactions he'd had with the Doctor those past few days.

He didn’t get it. He knew there were those times when the Doctor would just put on their sunglasses, pick up their guitar and play while disappearing into their mind. Maybe this was similar. Maybe they just wanted him to leave.

That... made sense. The kitchen had been a distraction. A distraction Nardole had thought of himself, but a distraction nonetheless. While Nardole had followed the map, the Doctor had disappeared into an unknown room in this absolute mammoth labyrinth.

It was difficult getting to know the TARDIS. The Doctor was right when they said that you reason with her more than anything. He reached over to stroke the wall in thanks for the food and he heard a pleasing whirr. "Thank you. How can I help them?"

She didn't say anything. Not even another whirr. He sighed. She'd left him to figure it out for himself.

When he finished his sandwiches, he felt comfortable voicing his stream of thoughts aloud "I think... Well, he clearly doesn't want me to be his therapist. Lord knows he needs it though. He doesn't want me to talk to him." He put his head in his hands as he listened to the gentle lull of the spaceship "So what does he want from me?"

Someone to be there?

A friend?

But then what did any of this have to do with them freaking out over the death of their-

They’re  _ grieving. _

The fact hit him like a punch in the face.

He knew it. He’d just been ignoring it.

He wasn’t sure how long the Doctor had known Professor Song. All of their lives. A century or two. They’d only ever given vague answers.

But time didn’t matter. It didn’t make their pain any less valid.

While Nardole had lost an admittedly pretty good employer, the Doctor had lost their wife.

And even if they had only spent a few hundred years with her, it didn’t lessen their love for her. And the pain they must be feeling...

The thought made him wheeze.

He didn't understand romance. He never had. The thoughts of sex and romance had never really crossed his mind, and watching other people fall in love had confused the hell out of him.

But he was nothing if not empathetic.

And he could understand the grief even if he didn't understand the romance.

The Doctor was grieving over their wife. And he needed to be there for them. Whatever they needed, he had to provide.

-

It took another few days for Nardole to find the Doctor. He’d been searching the many,  _ many _ rooms when he quite literally stumbled upon one. Low ceiling-ed, full of cushions of various kinds and littered with plush toys. He picked up a particularly nice looking elephant and was pleased when he realised it was one of those slow rising squash ones.

The room’s purpose was sensory, he realised, looking around. The table to the left littered in yoyos and fidget toys like the ones he'd found when emptying their coat for dry cleaning. The toys covering the floor seemed to be a melee of various kinds of slow rise, polyfill and beanie type. His eyes were drawn to a corner, so he waded through the mountains of pillows to reach what he was after.

And he was pleasantly surprised to find the Doctor.

They didn't have their guitar like he was expecting. Instead, they were curled up on one of the many cushioned chairs, head resting on their hands, a Totoro plush against their chest. Their eyes were as red as they had been days prior.

Nardole wouldn't be surprised if they'd spent the last few days crying.

He settled down next to them, shifting away when they flinched. They seemed fascinated by what he was doing, so he shuffled around to sit opposite them.

The cushions were as soft as they looked.

“I think I understand. You’re trying to find a way to cope with the loss of people in your lives. I promise I’m not trying to be annoying, I’m just trying to help.” He sighed “As much as it pains me to say, you do need time alone to grieve your wife.” They were still staring in confusion at him, piercing grey eyes wandering over his face “How about we have a signal? If you’re going to want to be alone for a while and meditate or just not talk?”

They looked like there were about to force out a phrase and Nardole shook his head, closing his hands over theirs “No talking if you don’t want to. I’ll get the message.”

The Doctor nodded. They awkwardly straightened their hand, brought it to their chin and then drew it away. Nardole smiled at the hasty sign language “You’re welcome. Now, do you want anything to eat? The kitchen is wonderfully stocked and I know you like to snack...?”

A small smile. A head shake. They reached over to pat the cushion next to them and Nardole tentatively sat down.

They didn't want to hug. That much was clear. They fell back against the cushions, closing their eyes.

If Nardole didn’t know any better, he’d think they were waiting for him to show up before they fell into meditation.

Like a safety blanket.

A friend. A shoulder. Whatever the Doctor needed, Nardole was willing to be that person. 

If this was how the Doctor wanted to deal with their grief, then that was okay with Nardole. He was just happy to be a friend.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been in limbo since the Husbands of River Song watchalong and the concept of the Doctor having selective mutism has been a theory dancing around in my head pretty much since I started headcanoning them as autistic. It would've stayed in its limbo, if not for my friend and I coming up with the headcanon of aroace Nardole which just sort of put the puzzle pieces together.  
> So thank you, Ace. You know who you are.


End file.
